To Heal
by magdelapetrem
Summary: Frida thinks about those times she almost didn't make it.


There were few moments in Frida's life where she felt she was going to die from her and Manny's antics. One was when a claw failed to retract as they were falling from a building, and the chain just kept unwinding. Finally Manny had grab the chain as they fell and climb back up manually, Frida clinging to his back as he forged upwards to the roof again. Frida had felt his breathing, hard, through his back and counted to ten as Manny lifted them to safety.

Another was when Frida was on a stake-out with her father, Manny sitting in the back of the car, absentmindedly playing a Game Boy. Frida hadn't seen a villain come up behind the car, and when they were lifted in the air, and Manny's belt failed to spin, being jammed by his shirt, Frida was sure that they weren't going to be saved by the famous El Tigre. At the last moment, when it seemed, yes, they were going to die by the giant robotic fist hovering above them, Manny ripped his shirt free and launched into action, setting the car back down on the ground gently and then proceeding to beat the evil out of the new super villain, crying, "I was on the last level!"

Those two instances were years ago. Three years later, they were sixteen, and Manny was a full-blown hero. He had all but mastered his powers, and struck fear into villains' hearts everywhere.

However, Frida was still a "side-kick". His "plucky, spontaneous, lady-friend," as dubbed by Puma Loco one day when they had been watching TV together. When Frida threatened villains, they laughed. Frida then proceeded to scream for Manny, who was always nearby, and the villains scurried away, screaming.

The last time Frida had felt she was going to die was when Manny wasn't there. She had been walking home from school, after giving a presentation that she felt she got an "A" on, and was in a good mood. Manny had detention for skipping class – because, apparently, saving the city wasn't a good enough excuse to get out of History class. Frida hummed the latest pop song on the radio under her breath, her blue hair bouncing on the sides of her face, and her goggles rising and falling with her. Her sneakers squawked on the side-walk. She passed alleys and buildings on cloud nine. One particular alley was chillier than the other, the shadows reaching a bit farther out than they should have, but Frida ignored it, blaming it on the sun's position in the sky. The sun was her main problem, making it slightly chilly as it fell under the horizon. The seasons were changing, and the days were getting shorter.

A hand reached out of the alley and gripped her shoulder in an iron hold. Frida shrieked and kicked out as she was dragged into the dark, her breath failing her when a hand landed itself in her gut. She gasped out, but the same hand that had knocked the wind out of her covered her mouth and she was silenced. Her body was thrown against the building's wall forcefully, and her head hit the rock. Stars danced before her eyes.

"So you're El Tigre's little friend, eh?" a heavily accented male voice asked. Frida tried to place it, but nothing came to mind. A petty thugger? "A skinny little thing, aren't you? I hear you're the Sheriff's daughter, but you still rely on El Tigre to defend you. Well, I don't see him."

Frida's mind cleared enough for her to look at her attacker. He had a thick moustache, and his eyes were squinting at her. His breath smelt of rum. He WAS just a thugger. A drunk thugger. She tried to bite his hand, but he thrust her head into the wall again, and the headache that ensued made it impossible to do anything but glare at the man pushing her against the brick.

"El Tigre sent my brother to jail," the assailant informed her, "but I know I'm no match for him. But _you._ _You're _just a little girl."

Frida recognized the moustache now. His brother must have been in the Moustache Mafia. She couldn't see any family resemblances, however.

"I can certainly take a little girl down," the man slurred. The alcohol was taking effect. Frida saw her chance and took it, slamming her knee into his groin. The man buckled, dropped his victim. Frida's feet hit the ground and she landed running. Just before she could get out of the alley, something that felt like wires wrapped around her ankle and she was dragged back, it wiping her feet out from under her. She looked down at what was capturing her; it was the attacker's moustache. She desperately clawed at it, thinking back to what Manny had done in the past to get of situations like this.

Manny.

Where was he? He was normally already on top of the guy hurting her, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. Then again, he normally wasn't. The kid was like a ninja sometimes. She glanced around for any sign of help.

A glint off gold caught her attention. She looked up.

There he was.

He had already transformed. She didn't recognize the look in his eyes. It was feral fury. His silhouette against the sun setting was tall, dark, strong, proud. The only thing she could make out was his lithe form moving forward and his claw unleashing from his fingers. It ripped across the man's moustache, and Frida was released. She scrambled up immediately. She heard a faint scream from behind her, probably the man.

"The one time I'm not here, and Frida's attacked. Jeez, Frida. Can you go anywhere without getting hurt?" Manny joked. His eyes were still angry, and his jaw was set.

"Hey, there are a lot of idiots out there," Frida replied lightly.

There was a small silence until Manny inquired, "You hurt?"

"Yeah!" Frida cried. "He totally slammed my head into the wall, and scraped my knee!" Frida pointed down at her knee, gesturing to her leg dramatically. "See? Do you see it?"

Manny nodded. "Well, then. Eye for an eye?" He turned his back to Frida and stalked forward. His cat-like fighting style had affected the way he walked –even casually- but it was like he _meant _to look like a predator approaching its weak prey as he stepped on silent feet towards the drunk curled in on himself. There was a _crack _and the man howled, and then Manny was dragging him out of the alley, into the light. The man held his head in his hands, and his knee was bleeding.

"I'm going to take him to jail, okay, Frida? I'll meet you back home," Manny told her, lugging the man onto the concrete sidewalk.

"Okay!" Frida called out to him. "I totally challenge you to Ultimate Wrestlers! I'm going to whoop your butt!"

Manny laughed. "Bring it on!"

Frida smiled and crossed her arms. She sighed, realizing how close she was to being beaten to death, and kicked the ground. "Might as well get back to his house." She cast her eyes back to him.

He wasn't even bothering to run him to the jail. He was still angry. Manny always walked when he was angry. Walked slowly. The man dragged behind him, head hanging. Frida's smile turned into a scowl.

"Hey, Manny!" Frida shouted.

Manny turned around, making sure she was fine.

"Can you pick me up a churro while you're out?" She smiled at him, a crooked grin. Manny shared her gaze and laughed.

"Only if you're paying," Manny yelled back.

"Darn it!" Frida screamed, stomping. "But I'm injured!"

"So?"

"Injured people need churro-y goodness!" She pointed to her knee. "To heal!"

Manny only scoffed and started to run the man to jail.

Frida scowled, thinking of wrestling video games and churros as she walked to Manny's house.

She couldn't help but squeal and hug Manny excitedly when he came back with two churros for them to eat as they battled it out on Ultimate Wrestlers.

* * *

I'd like to say, "What in the world is THIS?" On my part, because honestly, even I don't know. So, enjoy the random drabble for _El Tigre. _I'm honestly not sure what inspired me to do this, but let's blame television. It's _always _television's fault…_always._

I don't own anything, kthxbye.


End file.
